Knightmares
by Rainack
Summary: New technology has been stolen from Knight Industries and K.I.T.T. is nearly destroyed and Carlee loses her memory while trying to track it down. Please Read and Review
1. Chapter 1

Knight Rider doesn't belong to me. It belongs to Glen Larson. Carlee, Michaela and the other OC belong to me, though.

Knightmares

Chapter 1

Pieces of aluminum garage door flew into the warehouse in all directions. Tires squealed on concrete as the black T-top sports car fish tailed to a stop in the space.

Two men stood on a catwalk, holding a large compressed liquid sprayer between them. Aiming at the car below them, one of the men released a fine mist from the nozzle of the sprayer.

Carlee had been about to throw the car door open and go after the men, but K.I.T.T. wouldn't open the door. Instead, he switched to auto drive and peeled out of the warehouse.

"K.I.T.T., what are you doing?" Carlee asked in confusion.

"My sensors are picking up something most unusual about that liquid!" K.I.T.T. stated uncertainly. "Oh, dear!" he said a moment later.

"What?" Carlee demanded.

"That mist was full of the stolen nanites. They appear to have been reprogrammed to attack my molecular bonded shell. I calculate that in less than a minute, I will be vulnerable!"

The vehicle shuddered as something impacted it, and they were suddenly spinning wildly into a vacant lot near the warehouse.

"What..." Carlee started.

"My right rear tire has been punctured!" K.I.T.T. exclaimed, incredulously.

When they finally skidded to a stop, Carlee's eyes widened at what she saw out the windshield.

An SUV had screeched to a stop several yards away. A man jumped out, pulling a rocket propelled grenade launcher with him.

"K.I.T.T.!" Carlee exclaimed.

"My MBS is down to fifty percent! My shell will sustain heavy damage, but you should be safe," K.I.T.T. assured her.

The man had raised the RPG launcher to firing position. Carlee watched in horrified fascination as the grenade flew toward them and impacted on the ground near K.I.T.T.'s front tire. They had not been sitting idle after spinning out. Even with the punctured tire, they had been making slow progress forward. K.I.T.T.'s flat tire limped uselessly in the dirt of the vacant lot, throwing clods of dirt in all directions.

The grenade exploded, hurling K.I.T.T. into the air.

"K.I.T.T.!" Carlee screamed, trying to brace herself. Her head connected solidly with the driver side window and she passed out. K.I.T.T.'s wheels made hard contact with the ground again, throwing dirt and dust up all around.

"Carlee!" K.I.T.T.'s voice was filled with static. Several key systems were damaged beyond his capability to reroute.

Another grenade landed under K.I.T.T.'s prow.

The explosion flipped K.I.T.T. over, tossing Carlee around like a rag doll in the cabin. Passive Laser Restraint had been one of the first systems to go down.

The engine was a smoking ruin. The nanites had fully broken down the MBS on the front end, and were making quick work of the rest.

K.I.T.T. managed to override his emergency shutdown sequence long enough to see, with his one functional camera, when the man got back into the SUV and it drove away. Then he initiated his emergency locator beacon and succumbed to blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Opening her eyes, she tried to focus. Everything was blurry and seemed to come in sets of two.

Closing her eyes again, she took a deep breath, then opened her eyes once more. Her vision began to clear and the double images coalesced into one steady image.

"Take it easy. You've got a pretty good concussion," a gentle voice said from a few feet away. "You've been unconscious for nearly two days."

She looked slowly around, finally settling her gaze on the man who had spoken.

He was sitting cross legged on the floor a few feet away, so she couldn't judge how tall he was. His hair was long and scraggly, as was his beard. Both were salt and pepper, more salt than pepper, though. The exposed skin on his face was worn and weathered, and spoke of a hard life. He wore an olive green Army jacket over a thread bare green T-shirt, and his blue jeans were dingy and had holes in the knees. His once white sneakers were gray from dirt and had duct tape patches over the toes.

"What happened?" she asked, slowly pulling herself to a sitting position. She found she'd been lying on a nearly worn out sleeping bag.

"Not really sure. I found you in a partially blown up car a couple blocks away," he replied.

"Partially blown up car?" she asked, confused.

"Yeah. From the looks of it, it used to be a pretty nice 1982 or so black Trans Am! The front end was a smoking ruin. It looked like the car had been in a warzone! You must have hit your head when the car flipped."

"Where are we?"

"This is the abandoned warehouse I call home. I'm Jason, by the way," he leaned over, extending his hand.

She shook it politely, "Glad to meet you. I'm... um, I'm..." she struggled to remember her name. "I can't seem to remember my name. Or anything else for that matter," she said, an edge of panic in her voice.

"Hmm... Probably caused by the concussion. I saw the same thing happen in Gulf quite often. I was a medic over there. That's how I knew how to patch you up."

For the first time, she realized there was something wrapped around her head. Her hand went up to feel the bandage, and she looked at Jason questioningly.

"Mostly just a bump. There is a big enough abrasion that you had a bit of blood running down the side of your face, though."

"Besides me, was there anything or anyone else in that car?" Something was tickling the back of her mind. Something she was sure was important about the car.

"A couple hours after I got you here and made sure you would be okay, I went back to check out the car. A big black semi with a gold chess piece on the side was backed up to the car. Several people were pulling the car up into the trailer. I didn't hang around to see anything else."

"Do you think I could stay here for a couple days? From what you've said, it sounds like I might be in trouble. Without my memories, I don't know who else I can trust."

"Sure, no problem. Just, please don't expect five star accommodations."

"I won't. Thank you!" she smiled gratefully at Jason, who looked away in embarrassment. "Do you have a mirror? Maybe, if I saw what I look like, I might remember something."

"There's a bathroom, in the old manager's office. It's pretty dark in there, though, so take this." Jason tossed her a small flashlight. Catching it mid flight, she clicked it on, testing the beam, which was actually quite high powered for its size.

She got unsteadily to her feet. Managing to stay upright, she followed Jason's directions to the manager's office.

In the bathroom, she held the flashlight so she could study her face in the mirror.

Shoulder length brown, nearly black hair protruded from under the bandage that was wrapped neatly around her forehead. Blue eyes regarded her unflinchingly. Fine laugh lines at the corners of her eyes framed them elegantly. She guessed her age to be early to mid forties.

She wore a man's black leather jacket that was at least two sizes too big for her, a plain red T-shirt, blue jeans, and black tennis shoes. A gold medallion hung on a gold chain around her neck. The medallion was about a half inch in diameter and resembled a Saint Christopher medal. It hung heavily on the chain, suggesting it was close to twenty-four carat quality. On her left wrist was a strange looking men's digital wristwatch, its face cracked.

Checking her jacket and jeans pockets, she found them all to be empty. No wallet, no ID, no money.

Sighing dejectedly, she trudged back to where Jason still sat.

"Any luck?" he asked eagerly.

She just shook her head and sank to the floor, to sit cross legged not far from Jason.

"Well, since you're going to be staying for a few days, what should I call you?"

She shrugged her shoulders, saying quietly, "I guess it doesn't really matter."

Jason thought for a moment, "How about Li?" he asked, pronouncing the Asian name Lee.

"That sounds nice. It sounds... familiar," she replied.

"Okay! Li, it is!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"K.I.T.T.! Can you hear me?" a worried voice asked.

His system clock seemed to be malfunctioning, so he had no idea how long he'd been off-line, or why he'd been off-line for that matter.

"Carlee?" he asked hopefully, but his voice analyzers had already told him it wasn't her.

He tried to scan his surroundings, but all external systems were down.

"No, K.I.T.T. It's Bonnie," relief flooded Bonnie's voice.

"Bonnie, what happened? One of my memory modules seems to be damaged, I can't access my memories of the past two days."

"Give me a minute to look at it, K.I.T.T. Then I'll fill you in."

Bonnie leaned into the driver's side of the severely damaged supercar. She twisted her body until she was most of the way under the dashboard. After tapping a code into a concealed keypad, an access panel slid open. It reveled a circuit board with several memory modules inserted in it. One of the modules was fused to the circuit board.

"Damn!" Bonnie swore under her breath.

Crawling back out of the car, she said, "That whole circuit board will have to be replaced, K.I.T.T.! Those nanites sure did a number on you!"

"What nanites?" K.I.T.T. asked in confusion.

"You know Knight Industries has been working on nanite technology for the last few years," Bonnie reminded him.

"Yes, I remember that. Knight Industries has had the biggest advances with them in the industry," K.I.T.T. recalled.

"Three nights ago, the lab was broken into and a sample was stolen," Bonnie informed him.

Bonnie walked over to her workstation, and grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil. As she jotted down a list of components, she continued to tell K.I.T.T. what had happened. "The thieves must have been able to figure out how to get the nanites to reproduce and how to reprogram them. You and Carlee drove into a trap. They sprayed reprogrammed nanites on your MBS. The nanites attacked it, destroying it in minutes. You were then vulnerable to the grenades they launched at you!"

Two thoughts suddenly occurred to K.I.T.T. "Where are we? Where's Carlee?" he asked anxiously.

"We're home, K.I.T.T. I'll have you fixed up in no time!" Bonnie said, avoiding K.I.T.T.'s second question. "I've got to go get some parts, I'll be back in a while."

"How long have I been off-line? Where's Carlee?" K.I.T.T. tried again.

"It's been three days since the attack," answered Bonnie. She quickly departed, still not answering his last question.

K.I.T.T. was left to himself in darkness. He couldn't even access the Internet, as his wireless network connection was among the numerous systems that were down.

Usually, darkness didn't bother him. He'd been in darkness, inside himself, before. Like this time, it had been when he was nearly destroyed.

He'd never been left truly alone, though, those times. Michael had always been there with him throughout the rebuilding process.

K.I.T.T.'s mood lightened slightly, at the thought that since Carlee had become his driver, this was the first time he'd been in darkness. That had to be a record. Once in fifteen years, as opposed to once a year with Michael.

He sobered again at the thought that Bonnie's failure to answer his question about Carlee meant that something terrible had happened to her.

As his time in darkness dragged on, worry began to eat at him.

Beyond Wilton Knight's wildest dreams, K.I.T.T. had developed feelings and bonded tightly with his drivers.

When Michael had been killed while deep undercover ten years ago, K.I.T.T.'s close friendship with Carlee had been the only thing that prevented him from losing himself completely to his grief.

Of his own free will, he had taken Carlee as his new driver, and despite being given his freedom, continued on at the Foundation.

Now Carlee's fate was unknown. K.I.T.T. couldn't help but wonder if Bonnie hadn't told him where Carlee was because she was dead.

If Carlee were dead, K.I.T.T. wasn't sure he could stand the guilt of making Michaela an orphan. Surely Carlee wouldn't have been out in the field like this if it hadn't been for him.

He was so distracted by his worry and guilt, that when Bonnie finally returned, if he had possessed skin, he would have jumped out of it.

"Okay, K.I.T.T. I've got a surprise for you," as she spoke, K.I.T.T.'s scanners began to come back on-line. Other systems followed quickly after that, including a few new ones.

"Nanite skin?" K.I.T.T. asked, amazed at the new sensations that assailed him. Managing to get his anxiety under control, he concentrated on his new shell.

"Yes, over a reformulated MBS," Bonnie told him. His scanners told him she had a huge grin on her face. "That's not the best part, though. Take a 'look' at yourself."

K.I.T.T. used his restored wi fi connection to tap into the mansion's security cameras.

"Do you like it?" Bonnie asked anxiously.

K.I.T.T. considered the feed from the garage for a moment. "Now I think I know how Michael felt when he saw his new face," he said. "I think I can get used to being a Corvette, but I liked being black, better. I feel like a tomato on wheels."

"Then use the nanites to change color," Bonnie suggested.

K.I.T.T.'s "skin" shimmered and went from being a brilliant fire engine red to black. His scanner was situated in the hood, where an air intake usually resided. It tracked quickly back and forth, still the familiar red.

"We've been working on a way to upgrade your MBS for a while now..."

"Bonnie, you never answered my question about Carlee," K.I.T.T. interrupted, changing the subject, his worry finally pushing itself to the forefront of his processor.

Bonnie was suddenly very nervous, fidgeting with the wrench she'd been holding.

"When we reached that vacant lot, after we got your emergency broadcast, she was gone. Your driver side door was standing open. There were no signs of a struggle, but if she was unconscious there wouldn't be. We did find her cell phone still in your cab. Devon had the police canvas a two block radius, and we checked all the hospitals, but there was no sign of her. We figured our best bet was to get you fixed up so you could go find her."

K.I.T.T.'s engine roared to life, then promptly died again.

"Okay, _that_ was embarrassing!" K.I.T.T. exclaimed.

"It's going to take a day to get you fully integrated with your new shell and systems. I'll work as fast as I can, but please be patient. Let me fine tune your systems and you'll be good to go," Bonnie said, sticking her head and shoulders into the engine compartment as soon as K.I.T.T. popped the hood for her.

As she worked, Bonnie explained some of K.I.T.T.'s new functions. She knew he was fully capable of understanding the specs on his own, but she wanted something to talk about to keep the tension at bay. K.I.T.T. seemed perfectly content to let her tell him.

"We've upgraded your engine. It's fifty percent more efficient than your old turbine engine. It's a hybrid of solar power and combustible fuel. Your nanites supply it with solar power, allowing you to get three hundred miles a gallon. I've also managed to squeeze more speed out of it. Your new top speed is three hundred fifty miles an hour.

"Your turbo thrusters are fully maneuverable, now. You can literally turbo boost in any direction.

"Besides using the nanites for changing color and for solar collection, they can protect you against attack by other nanites, like what happened when you entered that warehouse."

Bonnie did all of the fine tuning work herself, working nearly non stop on it. She only stopped long enough to eat, and only after K.I.T.T. had remarked on her low blood sugar and insisted she stop.

With Carlee missing, the hours seemed to crawl by for K.I.T.T. He itched to be on the road, looking for her. While not conclusive proof, he thought the fact that she was missing meant she was alive.

* * *

Finally Bonnie closed the hood decisively.

"Finished, but there's one more new program we need to check before you go," Bonnie said. She wiped a grease stained hand across the hip of her white coveralls, leaving black smudges behind.

"What program is that, Bonnie?" K.I.T.T. asked, his voice conveying puzzlement, as well as a bit of impatience.

"Activate the A.R.C. program," Bonnie simply said.

A bulge formed outward on K.I.T.T.'s driver door. It quickly separated from the door, and stood on four canine feet on the garage floor. A moment later, it fully resembled a German Shepherd.

"Bonnie! Really? A dog! You know how I feel about dogs!" A moment later, he said, "Oh, this is interesting," He moved the dog's head from side to side, adjusting to the dual perspective.

"This is your avatar, the Autonomous Roving Companion. It's a way for you to follow Carlee where a car can't go. Its got a range of a mile away from your core CPU, after a mile, it dissolves into its base nanites. You can alter small details about your form. For example, if you needed to climb like a cat, you can change your blunter dog claws to much sharper cat claws," Bonnie explained. "At this point, a dog form is the most feasible. Something about the nanites' ability to replicate and deconstruct themselves. You'd have to ask Dr. Richards about it. He's the one that developed the nanites and all the programs associated with them. Why don't you try it out? Go find Michaela."

A.R.C. trotted toward the connecting door to the mansion. The lock clicked, triggered by one of K.I.T.T.'s oldest functions, and A.R.C. pawed the door open and slipped through.

The nanites that comprised A.R.C. sent scent analysis back to K.I.T.T. and he was quickly able to track Michaela down.

A.R.C. approached Michaela's bedroom door, which opened with a click. He slipped inside and padded in.

Ten year old Michaela Knight, Carlee and Michael's daughter, sat at her desk, working on homework. She shared Michael's curly dark hair and piercing blue eyes, and when she laughed, her head tilted the same way Michael's had.

Michaela had never met her father, as he had died before she was born, but K.I.T.T. could see Michael in many of her mannerisms and expressions.

"Hi, Michaela," K.I.T.T.'s voice emanated from the dog's body.

"K.I.T.T.?" Michaela asked in confusion.

The dog rippled, showing it was a machine, "This is my newest program, an avatar. What do you think?"

Michaela squealed in delight, and ran over to hug the A.R.C.

Back in the garage, K.I.T.T. was easily able to split his attention between his shell and his avatar. "Is there a future possibility of a human avatar form?" he asked curiously.

"I think that is something Dr. Richards is working on," Bonnie replied.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

As night approached, the already dim warehouse got darker. The sparse population of boxes began to disappear in the shadows.

Jason had lighted a couple of small candles, but they did nothing to dispel the shadows, or the unease Li suddenly felt.

A shudder passed through her, and she tried to hide it.

"You okay?" Jason asked, as he handed her the can of tuna he'd just opened for their dinner.

"I don't know. I think something bad must have happened to me in a warehouse," she replied, still eyeing the shadows. Li dug into the tuna hungrily. "You're very kind to share your food with me. Thank you!"

Jason smiled sheepishly, and looked away.

"I'll pay you back, somehow," she promised him.

"Don't worry about it!" he mumbled under his breath, touched that someone would care about his feelings.

"I'm tired of trying to remember my life. Tell me about you. You seem too caring and responsible to be on the streets. I'm sure you could be a paramedic as skilled as you are!" Li said kindly.

"I had a job with the ambulance company, but then my VA benefits ran out and I couldn't continue working with the councilor on my post traumatic stress."

"Somehow, I don't think VA benefits just run out," Li responded.

"When I got the letter, I went in to ask about it. They told me the only way to file an appeal was to hire a lawyer. I couldn't afford one. Within a month of my last appointment with my councilor, I started having anxiety attacks again. They were so sever, I couldn't function at my job anymore!"

That night, Jason insisted she sleep in his sleeping bag.

"I can sleep anywhere, just so long as it isn't sandy. Reminds me too much of my time in the Gulf!" he'd told her.

* * *

Sometime later, Li woke to a gentle shaking. Jason knelt beside her, a worried look on his face.

"Li? You okay?" he asked. "You spent most of the night muttering something that sounded like 'Is Kitt okay? I have to find Kitt.'"

She sat up, shaking her head, "I have no idea who Kitt could be. I..." she paused, trying to remember what she'd been dreaming about. Disjointed flashes were all she could recall. "I don't remember what I was dreaming about."

"Well, I gotta go see if I can find us some grub. We ate the last of my food last night," Jason said, preparing to rise.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she replied.

"Nah, it's okay," Jason assured her, rising to go.

"Jason," she rose as he turned back to her questioningly. "Take this, please. Pawn it and use the money for the food. It's the least I can do," she said, pulling the medallion and chain over her head. She pressed it into Jason's hand.

He looked down at it, his eyes widening in shock. "I can't take this!" he started.

She curled Jason's fingers around it. "You can, and you will!" Li insisted.

Having nothing to do while Jason was gone, she decided to go for a walk.

She hadn't intended to go far, but soon found herself a couple of blocks from Jason's warehouse. She was staring at a vacant lot with two blast craters, each a couple of feet deep.

A shout of, "Hey! That's her! She's not dead!" caused her to turn toward the open cargo door of a neighboring warehouse.

Two men were sprinting toward her, closing the distance fast.

She turned and ran back the way she had come. When she reached the end of the block, she turned the corner, hoping she could find a building to duck into, but they were all locked up tight.

The men rounded the corner a few seconds behind her, leaving her no choice but to run again.

Li's legs were knocked out from under her when one of the men lunged at her. She went down, hard, her breath leaving her lungs in a rush.

She was pulled roughly to her feet, even as she was still struggling to regain her breath.

"Not so tough, without your car, Knight," the second man said, as he grabbed her other arm.

She didn't even have the breath to ask what he meant.

The two men hauled her back to the warehouse.

"Karishnov will want to talk to you!" the first man snarled at her.

This time she managed a weak, "Why?"

The men snorted, and the second man said, "You're joking, right?"

She managed to shake her head and for the first time the men seemed to notice the bandage tied around her head.

"You got amnesia, or something?" the first man asked.

"Or something," she replied, having finally gotten her breathing under control. She pretended to stumble, bringing her right foot down with all of her might on the second man's left foot.

This caused him to howl in pain, but his grip on her arm only tightened. "Don't do that again!" he growled menacingly.

When they walked through the cargo door, one of the men bellowed, "Karishnov!"

"I'm busy!" was the angry response from an office toward the back of the building.

"Look who we ran into on the street," the first man said, as they dragged her toward the office.

When they walked in, Karishnov grunted, looking up from the computer in front of him. He pulled a cigar from his mouth and stood up.

"Ms. Knight! It would seem you are a very hard woman to kill," Karishnov's voice held the trace of a Russian accent.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

K.I.T.T. had tried homing in on Carlee's comlink. It was still broadcasting, but very sporadically, giving K.I.T.T. the impression that it was probably severely damaged. Each burst of signal it sent out was only long enough for K.I.T.T. to know it was there, but not long enough for him to track.

This wasn't his only option for tracking her down, though. He knew she'd been wearing Michael's medallion. The medallion with the emergency homing beacon and override programming housed in it. Its intended use had been to override any prior orders K.I.T.T. might have and send him straight to his driver by following the signal.

K.I.T.T. had managed to tap into the signal and activate the homing beacon in it.

Its signal was stationary and seemed to be coming from an address registered to a pawn shop.

K.I.T.T. decided the pawn shop would be his first stop. He knew it was highly unlikely Carlee was there, but perhaps he could find out who had pawned the necklace. It was something Carlee would not willingly have parted with.

Pulling into a parking spot near the entrance, K.I.T.T. scanned the interior. There was only one person inside and the sign on the door indicated a closing time of nine o'clock. K.I.T.T.'s system clock registered eight thirty.

Activating the A.R.C. program, K.I.T.T. padded on canine feet up to the door. Nosing the door open, he slipped inside.

The door closed behind him, and A.R.C. electronically locked it. Then he cantered to the back of the shop and the sales counter there.

With a light jump, A.R.C. was on top of the counter. The startled clerk rose from the chair he'd been sitting in. A magazine fluttered to the floor, forgotten.

"Where the hell did you come from!" the clerk exclaimed.

A.R.C. paced down the counter until he was standing directly over Carlee's gold medallion. "Tell me about the person who brought that medallion in, please."

The clerk's mouth dropped open, "Uh..."

"It is imperative that I know who pawned that necklace!" A.R.C. snapped, baring a canine tooth at the dumbfounded clerk.

"It was a local bum named Jason." The clerk finally overcame his shock enough to speak.

"Do you know where he can be located?"

"I've heard that he's staying in an abandoned warehouse a few blocks away. What the _hell_ are you?"

"Please put the necklace in my mouth," A.R.C. said, ignoring the clerk's question.

The clerk opened the cabinet and pulled the necklace out. Still too dazed from the whole experience to resist, he placed the necklace in A.R.C.'s mouth.

The nanites were instantly able to tell K.I.T.T. that there were three sets of prints on the medallion. Carlee's were the faintest, followed by a man named Jason Rickson, and the last set belonged to the pawn shop clerk.

Jason Rickson was in the armed forces database. He had been discharged due to mental health issues after returning early from his tour in the Gulf War.

The part of K.I.T.T. that was currently interfaced with A.R.C. continued to press for details, "What time did he come in?"

"Oh, you mean the bum. I guess it was around ten or so this morning."

Having a time frame to work with, A.R.C. sifted through all of the scents in the shop until he identified five from the approximate time Jason had come into the shop.

"Thank you. You have been most helpful," A.R.C. told the clerk.

"Uh, sure," the clerk replied.

A.R.C. jumped down from the counter, and loped back to the front door. The lock clicked open, and A.R.C. pushed himself out the door.

K.I.T.T.'s driver side door opened, and A.R.C. jumped in to deposit the medallion in the glove box before merging back into the car.

Pulling out of the parking spot, K.I.T.T. contacted Devon and Bonnie.

"Any news, K.I.T.T.?" Devon asked. His face was lined with worry.

"I'm not sure yet. A local homeless Gulf War Vet named Jason Rickson pawned Carlee's emergency homing device around ten o'clock this morning. I'm going to track him down and see what he can tell me," K.I.T.T. replied.

"K.I.T.T., do whatever you have to. Just get her home! She could still be in danger from those thieves," Devon said.

"Don't worry, I will!"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Jason had returned to the warehouse about three hours after he'd left.

He found the place deserted, and briefly thought that perhaps he'd imagined Li. Hefting the two bags of groceries, he dispelled the thought. The groceries had been paid for with money he'd gotten by pawning the necklace she'd given him.

Li was as real as he was, he assured himself. And she was in extreme danger, if the state of her car was any indication. Someone had deliberately tried to blow her to kingdom come, he just couldn't understand why.

Jason fervently hoped Li hadn't wandered too far, and would be able to find her way back.

When by eight o'clock that night, Li still hadn't returned, Jason had worked himself up into a near panic of worry.

He shoved his flashlight into his jacket pocket and headed out the door.

Muttering under his breath, he turned around and went back into the warehouse.

He headed out again, only to turn around once again. Finally, he ended up in the warehouse, sitting on his ratty old sleeping bag.

Hugging his knees to his chest, Jason tried to use the deep breathing exercises his V.A. head shrink had taught him, back when he'd been able to use to the VA services.

He'd always been so calm during a crisis. He knew just what had to be done to ensure his patients came through.

Then one day, during late in his tour, something happened. To this day, even he wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but he had panicked and it had cost a young pregnant Kuwaiti woman her life.

Jason hadn't been able to function in the field after that, so he'd been shipped home.

Finally getting himself under control, Jason resolved that he would go out the door, and look for the woman.

Standing up, he walked to the door actually making it out this time.

A black Corvette was parked by the curb, and a German Shepherd was padding toward him.

"Jason Rickson?" a disembodied voice asked.

Jason looked around, trying to identify the speaker.

"Who wants to know?" Jason queried.

The Corvette's passenger door opened, which Jason found curious, since the car seemed to be deserted. "Please get in the car."

The German Shepherd stood a couple of feet away, just staring at him.

"Who are you?" Jason repeated.

"My name is K.I.T.T. I'm looking for my friend. Scent analysis tells me she was here recently. You pawned a medallion that belonged to her." K.I.T.T.'s glove box popped open, and the medallion sparkled in the dim light. "How did you get the medallion?"

"She gave it to me to pawn, so I could buy food."

K.I.T.T. analyzed Jason's stress responses. He was highly stressed, but he'd been that way when he'd walked out of the warehouse. Jason was telling the truth about Carlee giving him the medallion.

"Was she injured?"

"She had a gash on the side of her head, and a mild concussion. She's suffering from amnesia."

For some reason, Jason wasn't afraid of the car or the strange dog. He hadn't gotten in the car, but he didn't make any move to flee, either.

"You are her friends, aren't you," it was a statement of fact. Jason had seemed to know, from the kind way the woman had treated him, that she was a very special person. He figured someone as special as her would have equally special friends.

"Yes! I am K.I.T.T., and my avatar is A.R.C. Do you know where Carlee is? She may be in danger."

Jason shook his head sadly, "She wasn't here when I got back from pawning the necklace and getting groceries. I was just going to look for her, but..." His fear and indecision had returned.

"It's okay, Jason. I'll go look for her. You stay here, in case she comes back."

Jason nodded, grateful to be given a way out. K.I.T.T.'s scanners told him that Jason's stress levels were rapidly returning to normal.

A.R.C. turned and paced down the street, quickly picking up Carlee's scent. It was only a few hours old, so he knew this was a new trail, not one she'd left behind the day K.I.T.T. had nearly been destroyed.

K.I.T.T. groaned inwardly, as he realized where Carlee had gone. Something seemed to have drawn her right back into the lion's den.

Screeching away from the curb, K.I.T.T. paused only long enough for A.R.C. to launch himself directly at the passenger door, where his nanites redistributed themselves from dog form to reinforcing the car.

A moment later, the roaring engine was silenced, as K.I.T.T. switched to silent mode.

He scanned the warehouse as he approached. At the same time, he altered his licence plate from the familiar blue and yellow KNIGHT to a plate number matching a yellow Corvette, and his "skin" shimmered from black to bright yellow. His windows tinted, obscuring the interior.

K.I.T.T. nearly stopped in the middle of the street. The nanites that made up part of his "skin" could sense the stolen nanites in the warehouse. He was shocked that they were still there. The thieves must have been that confident that they'd killed Carlee and destroyed him.

His scanners also picked up several people in the building. Four of them were in an office at the back of the warehouse. Another three people were loading a cargo truck in the main warehouse. Scanning the cargo, he discovered numerous grenades, and missiles. The nanites seemed to be contained in the office.

Three of the men in the office were armed. The fourth person was being held between two of the men. By comparing the fourth person's vital signs to Carlee, he knew this had to be her.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"I don't know!" she spat out, along with a stream of blood.

Karishnov had back handed her twice, and he was pulling his arm back for another.

Her head snapped to the side from the force of the blow. She sagged between the two men, and would have fallen if it hadn't been for their grips on her upper arms. Spots danced before her eyes, and she shook her head, trying to clear it.

"Is there anything else I don't know that you'd like to know?" she growled, knowing she should be terrified of this man who held her life in his hands. She tried with all her might to be afraid of him, but just couldn't. Instead, she seethed with anger.

She wasn't completely sure, but she couldn't shake the feeling that this man was directly responsible for hurting or even killing someone very close to her.

Karishnov grabbed her chin in one hand, holding her head so she was forced to look at him. "You'll remember, eventually! By then, you'll be broken so badly, you'll beg me to take what I want to know and end your suffering!" His Russian accent had thickened in his anger.

Releasing her chin, Karishnov spun on his heel. "Get her out of my sight! Tie her up in the truck with the merchandise. We'll take her with us!"

In the main warehouse, her two guards pulled her roughly between them. They dragged her toward a large cargo truck.

One of the men climbed into the back, and pulled her up after him. The other grabbed a roll of thick twine from a nearby stack of boxes and climbed up in the truck.

Pushing her face down on the floor of the cargo bay, they tied her hands behind her back and bound her feet together. After making sure the twine was secure, they left, slamming the doors behind them. They didn't bother latching them, though, so one door bounced back open a couple of feet, admitting weak light.

Wiggling about, she managed to get onto her side. Though the interior was dim, she could make out writing on a few of the boxes. Taking a more careful look, she realized the boxes were actually wooden crates.

They were labeled with codes like T.H.M. and S.W.M. She estimated the crates were about as long as she was tall, and were about three feet high.

Rolling to her other side, she saw more coded crates. A couple of these were labeled RPG Hi. Ex.

Somehow, she knew those were high explosive rocket propelled grenades, and they were what had caused the two blast craters in the vacant lot.

She realized the M on the other crates must stand for missile.

Looking around again, she concentrated on finding a loose nail she could use to cut through the twine. Her hands and arms were beginning to throb from being tied tightly behind her. She feared that if she waited too long to free herself, her hands would go numb.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

K.I.T.T. had parked across the street from the warehouse. He continued to scan the place, trying to come up with a plan.

When Carlee was deposited in the back of the cargo truck, K.I.T.T. found his opening.

A.R.C. plopped onto the sidewalk, out of the passenger door, and padded across the street.

The cargo door still stood open, despite the late hour. They must have been preparing to leave.

There was no one in the main warehouse. K.I.T.T. had monitored as the three loaders had left, and Carlee's two guards had returned to the office.

A.R.C. padded through the door, over to the back of the truck. One of the truck doors stood open a couple of feet, leaving A.R.C. just enough room to spring up into the cargo area.

He found Carlee desperately looking around the space from where she lay tied up on the floor.

Her eyes lit with fear, when she spotted A.R.C.

Speaking quietly, he said, "It's okay! I'm a friend."

"What the hell!" she hissed. "I know I've forgotten a lot, but I _know_ dogs don't talk!" Her voice had begun to rise.

"Please, keep your voice down. I'll explain everything, once I get you out of here," A.R.C. approached Carlee, intending to allow the nanites to cut the twine.

"Stay away!" she said, scooting away from the Boston accented talking German Shepherd.

"Carlee, please let me help you! I would never hurt you!"

There was something familiar about the voice and the phrasing of the words, but she couldn't place how she knew it. Instinctively she started to trust the voice, even if it did come from a dog.

"I guess it's better than sitting around here," she mumbled under her breath.

A.R.C. approached. Taking one bite at the twine around her ankles, he released her legs. A moment later, the twine around her wrists fell away just as quickly.

Rising to her feet, she said, "Okay, now what?"

"Follow me, Carlee!" A.R.C. said, as he padded back to the door and jumped down.

She had to push the truck door open a little farther, before she could jump down. The door groaned in protest.

"Hurry, someone's coming!" A.R.C. urged her.

Outside, K.I.T.T.'s engine roared to life and he fish tailed into the warehouse.

"Quick, Carlee, get in!" he exclaimed, throwing open the driver side door.

From the office, they heard shouting and running footsteps.

Jumping from the truck, she ran to the car, not caring that it didn't have a driver.

Then she was in, the door slamming shut as A.R.C. leapt at it, merging on impact.

Just then, Karishnov and his two thugs cleared the office door. Each was holding a hand gun.

The sounds of the shots echoed through the warehouse.

She watched in horrified fascination as several bullets impacted on the windshield, only to harmlessly bounce off.

Then they were suddenly reversing out of the building and rocketing down the street, away from Karishnov and his men.

After catching her breath, she said, "Okay, so tell me. Who am I, who are you, and where are we going?"

"You are Carlee Knight, my driver. I am K.I.T.T., which is short for Knight Industries Two Thousand. We are heading back to our home, a mansion belonging to the Foundation for Law and Government." K.I.T.T. purposefully didn't tell Carlee about Devon, Bonnie, or Michaela. He desperately hoped the sight of them would jar her memory back.

K.I.T.T. sent a text message to Bonnie, letting her know they were on the way back, after one quick stop.

Bonnie sent a series of question marks back, indicating she wanted to know what he meant.

K.I.T.T. responded with a simple, "Wait and see," text.

To Carlee, he said, "We need to go see your friend, Jason. He was very worried about you when I spoke to him earlier."

Her hand going to the bandage still wrapped around her head, Carlee said, "He saved my life, and let me stay with him."

"We are going to return the favor," K.I.T.T. assured her, as he screeched to a stop in front of Jason's warehouse.

Jason had been watching out the open door, hoping Carlee or K.I.T.T. would come back.

A shy smile lit his face, when he saw Carlee sitting in the black Corvette.

K.I.T.T. popped open his passenger side door.

"Jason, get in," Carlee said, "I can't just leave you here. You could be in danger. They tell me that my name is Carlee Knight and that this is my car. I don't remember, but I feel like we can both trust them."

Jason got in the car without hesitation.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

When K.I.T.T. pulled into the garage, there were three people waiting. A woman Carlee thought was probably close to her own age. Her dark hair fell in waves around her face to just past her shoulders. An older gentleman, his gray hair was cut neatly, but his tie was askew. The last was a girl of about ten.

When Carlee got out of the car, the girl approached hesitantly. "Mom?"

Carlee tried to step back, only to bump into K.I.T.T.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure I'm supposed to know all of you, but I don't remember!"

The girl looked beyond her to K.I.T.T. "What's wrong with Mom? Will she be okay?"

"She has amnesia caused by a minor concussion. Given time, Michaela, I believe your mom's memories should all return."

Carlee didn't move from her spot pressed up against K.I.T.T., and Jason had refused to get out after they pulled into the mansion's driveway and he got his first good look at the place.

"I'm Bonnie, and this is Devon," Bonnie said, indicating herself and Devon. "Who's your friend?" Bonnie asked, peering through K.I.T.T.'s side window.

"Devon, this is Jason Rickson, the Gulf War vet I told you about. He saved Carlee's life. We owe him one!" K.I.T.T. said a bit defensively, as if he thought Devon might try to send Jason away.

* * *

Jason had finally gotten nervously out of K.I.T.T., after Bonnie and Devon had assured him he was among friends.

"Carlee told us about your VA benefits running out. That just seems wrong, after the service you did for your country. We are going to look into your files and find out exactly why your benefits are being withheld," Devon had assured him. "In the mean time, you are welcome to stay here as our guest. Anything you need, just let us know."

"We have a psychologist on staff. K.I.T.T. suggested you might like to talk to him," Bonnie chimed in.

Relief flooded Jason's face. "Yes! Please! I've always believed I wouldn't be where I am today if I'd been able to continue seeing my head shrink."

The next few days were spent healing and trying to remember.

The gash on the side of her head healed quickly, thanks to Jason's expert field dressing.

Carlee spent time with Michaela and the other residents of the mansion. Trying to get to know them again, and hoping against all hopes that her memories would come back.

At times, disjointed flashes of memory would cause her to pause and grasp for more, but as soon as she'd reach for them, they'd retreat again.

At other times, a smell, taste, or something someone said would seem familiar.

The first evening back, she'd gone for an aimless walk after dinner, and found herself in the mansion's exercise room.

She had approached the punching bag with the idea that she'd take a couple of swings at it to take out her frustration. Fifteen minutes later, sweat was pouring down her face. Her arms and legs ached pleasantly from the hits and kicks she'd given the bag.

Promising herself she'd ask about her martial arts experience, she headed back to the suite of rooms Michaela had shown her to earlier.

Each evening since, she'd gone back to the exercise room.

She clung to the knowledge that if this piece of her forgotten life was still there, then the rest was too.

Carlee had also been spending a lot of time with K.I.T.T. They talked about old cases, mostly. When she wasn't in the garage with K.I.T.T., A.R.C. followed her around the mansion.

"A.R.C. you need to take some lessons on being a dog!" Carlee said the second morning she woke up to find K.I.T.T.'s avatar sitting by her bed, staring at her unblinking.

"Why?" he asked in confusion.

"Because dogs don't sit and stare at people for long periods of time, especially at night!" she snapped in slight irritation. "Besides, if you were to use your avatar to go undercover, you need to know how to act like a dog."

The next morning, she woke to find A.R.C. curled up on the end of her bed, acting like he was asleep. He stood and stretched, then sat and scratched behind his right ear with his back foot.

"How's that?" he asked.

"Impressive," she replied.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"What was the case we were on when I lost my memory, K.I.T.T.?"

"An industrial espionage case. Someone broke into Knight Industries' research and development lab and stole a sample of nanites."

"What's a nanite?" Carlee inquired.

Carlee sat in K.I.T.T.'s driver seat out in the mansion's spacious garage.

K.I.T.T. was the only vehicle in residence, leaving a lot of open space.

There was an office area, that she had discovered was hers, and a bank of computers and other electrical gadgets belonging to Bonnie.

A visual representation of a nanite appeared on K.I.T.T.'s dash monitor. His new, single monitor, was a streamlined LCD screen five inches wide and nearly that tall.

The nanite on the screen, scaled up to be visible with the naked eye, looked like nothing more impressive than a germ.

"A nanite is a microscopic machine. Their uses are limitless. They are mostly being developed for medical use, but Dr. Richards has come up with several ways for me to utilize them, my avatar being one way."

"Why steal nanites from Knight Industries?" Carlee wanted to know.

"Knight industries has made the biggest gains in uses and development of them."

* * *

"K.I.T.T. and I have been able to trace the stolen nanites. They're about to be shipped to Russia," Carlee sat across Devon's desk from him. She fought to remain calm.

"No! You are _not_ going after them. Without your memories, you're vulnerable!"

"K.I.T.T. has brought me up to speed on the case, and I know how to defend myself! I'll be fine!" Carlee snapped, tired of being treated like an invalid.

"Carlee..." Devon didn't get a chance to finish.

Carlee sprang to her feet and stormed out of the office.

Picking up the phone, Devon pushed a couple of buttons. "K.I.T.T., do _not_ allow Carlee to leave the grounds."

"You're too late, Devon. She commed me just before you and told me to meet her out front."

"Damn!" Devon slammed his hand down on his desk in frustration. "Keep her safe!"

"I will!"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Are the nanites still in that private hanger at the airport, K.I.T.T.?" Carlee asked, as she slid into the driver's seat.

"As near as I can tell, yes."

"Plot us the fastest route, then."

The engine roared to life, and Carlee pulled the sleek black Corvette out of the driveway.

"When is that plane scheduled to take off?" Carlee asked, as she steered out to the road.

"According to their filed flight plan, twenty minutes from now. At our current speed, we'll be there in ten," K.I.T.T. replied.

The landscape blurred by as they sped down the road doing two hundred miles an hour.

* * *

The private air strip was surrounded by chain link fence, and double chain link gates were closed across the access road.

The gates exploded in two different directions, as K.I.T.T. tore through them.

At the end of the runway, the hanger doors stood open, and a private jet had just taxied clear.

"K.I.T.T.!" Carlee exclaimed. "Can we micro jam it?"

"No, it's shielded against jamming!" K.I.T.T. replied.

"Damn!" Carlee exclaimed. "We'll have to take out a wing, then."

"There is a chance that taking out a wing will cause the plane to explode," K.I.T.T. warned.

"We'll have to take that chance. We _can't_ let those nanites leave the country!"

Carlee swung the wheel, bringing K.I.T.T. into a hard left turn.

The jet was several yards ahead of them.

Carlee stomped on the accelerator, causing K.I.T.T. to jump forward and close the distance to the plane. She pulled the Corvette up on the plane's left side, and partially under the wing.

"Here we go!" Carlee yelled, punching the turbot boost button.

K.I.T.T. leapt into the air, taking most of the wing with him.

The plane skidded to a stop. The remains of the wing had burst into flame. The plane's door opened, and Karishnov and two other people emerged. Karishnov held a steel case in his hand.

"The plane is about to explode!" K.I.T.T. exclaimed.

K.I.T.T. had screeched to a stop far enough away to avoid the explosion.

Carlee jumped out of the car, waving at the people exiting the plane, "Run, it's going to blow!"

Karishnov and his associates were already running. When the plane exploded, they were thrown to the ground.

The fireball caused Carlee to stagger, shielding her eyes with her arm. Something in her mind clicked.

"K.I.T.T.?" Carlee asked.

"Yes, Carlee?"

"Why did Bonnie program a dog for your avatar? You _hate_ dogs!"

"Bonnie wasn't the one who programmed my avatar..." K.I.T.T. trailed off as all of what Carlee had said sunk in. "I... hate... dogs... Carlee, does that mean you..." K.I.T.T. couldn't quite finish his sentence.

"Yes, K.I.T.T. I remember everything! Call the police!"

Karishnov was staggering to his feet, the case still clutched in his hands.

"Damn you!" he swore at Carlee, as she approached him.

Without preamble, she hauled back and punched him in the face with all her might. "That was for trying to kill my friend," then she did two quick jabs to his mid section, ending with an uppercut to his chin.

Karishnov suddenly found himself looking up at Carlee from the ground.

"And that was for trying to kill me!" she snarled at him, as police cars screeched to a halt nearby.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Bonnie tucked a strand of long dark brown hair distractedly behind her right ear.

She sat in front of the computer screen, absorbed in the files she was browsing through. Jason Rickson's life story, laid out before her.

Carlee had mentioned the Veteran's Administration, so she figured she'd start there.

Jason's V.A. file started a few months after being shipped back from the Gulf. It read like any post traumatic stress sufferer's file: difficulty sleeping, nightmares, difficulty relating to others, withdrawn. He'd been seeing a psychologist, and seemed to be coping well enough to hold down a steady job.

Then all of a sudden, he'd been denied benefits. The reason given was dishonorable discharge, with a very vague reason for the discharge. Yet he'd actually been discharged several years earlier than the date on the file.

Bonnie pulled up Jason's actual discharge papers.

There was nothing in the discharge papers about it being dishonorable. On the contrary, he'd been given a medical discharge, and a distinguished service medal, which should have ensured his V.A. status for life.

Bonnie had the suspicion that someone in the administration had been looking at the long term numbers and decided they didn't like what they saw. Documents were then falsified, causing Jason to lose his benefits. She felt certain he wasn't the only one.

Typing in a few search parameters, Bonnie soon had a list of vets who had dishonorable discharges, according to the V.A. She cross checked that list with vets who had actually received medical or honorable discharges.

To say she was shocked and outraged would have been an understatement. The list she'd come up with numbered in the high hundreds going as far back as Vietnam.

Looking at the list, she thought she knew how the government had managed to get away with it.

Each person on the list was flagged as having severe P.T.S.D. That, she thought, along with a lack of funds, would have severely limited the ability of these people to fight back.

Printing up the list, Bonnie swore that now they had someone to fight for them. For all of them!

After all, this type of thing was exactly what the Foundation stood for. Helping those who couldn't help themselves against people who were above the law.

Taking the list out of the printer, she strode purposefully to Devon's office, where she gave him the list and told him what she'd found out.

Devon's outraged, "What!" could be heard several rooms away.

He snatched up the phone, calling the Foundation's legal team. He instructed them to start putting together a class action lawsuit against the V.A. and whoever had "bloody well thought the whole damnable plan up."

* * *

Jason had been meeting with Dr. Anders, from the Foundation's staff, for a few weeks, now. He was extremely grateful to his new friends, especially Carlee and K.I.T.T.

For the first time in years, he felt like a part of society again.

Not knowing how else he might be able to repay them, he started helping out around the mansion – helping the paid help to clean.

He was dusting the upstairs hallway, one evening, when he heard Michaela scream.

Dropping everything, Jason ran toward the sound. He took the stairs to the front entrance two at a time.

Michaela lay at the bottom of the staircase, cradling her right arm and sobbing.

"Michaela? What happened?" he asked, dropping easily into what he thought of as his "medic mode."

Devon, Bonnie, and Carlee reached the entrance at that moment.

"I tripped and fell down the last few steps! Ow!" she panted out, as Jason gently touched her arm.

He felt as much of it as he could without asking her to move it.

"Can you straighten your arm?" he asked.

"No! It hurts too bad!" Michaela sobbed.

Looking up at the other adults, Jason said, "I don't think it's broken, but I want to bind it to her body until you get her to the hospital. I need a bed sheet or large bath towel and a belt."

"I'll go get a sheet," Bonnie said, and jogged off.

"Here's my belt," Devon said, taking off his belt and handing it to Jason.

"A.R.C., I need K.I.T.T. by the front door!" Carlee said, looking worriedly from Michaela to A.R.C. and Jason.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Jason breathed a sigh of relief. He'd really had to fight down the panic as he'd been checking Michaela's arm, but he'd done it!

He knew he wasn't fully healed yet, but he was on the road to recovery.

He stood in the doorway with Devon, watching the black Corvette speed down the driveway toward the hospital.

Devon clapped Jason on the back. "Well done, my friend!"

"Thank you!" Jason responded quietly.

"I've been meaning to hire a full time medic, for emergencies, such as this." Devon looked at Jason's face, for a reaction. "What do you say?"

"I... I don't know what to say." Jason swallowed hard. "I mean, I'm not healed yet! I still have a long way to go to get over my P.T.S.D."

"Yes... Yes... I know. That's why you wouldn't start until Dr. Anders clears you. You'd continue to stay here until then, though."

"Okay... Okay! I'll take the job!" Jason shook Devon's hand, a bright smile lighting up his now clean shaven face.

* * *

Carlee and Michaela didn't hear the news until the next morning.

They had spent most of the night in the ER. A multiple vehicle accident on the freeway and an apartment complex fire had meant there were quite a few other people in worse need of the doctors' time than Michaela.

Michaela was finally shown to an exam room around nine thirty, and a doctor came in a few minutes later.

Glancing from the chart in his hand to Michaela, he said, "So, you fell down some stairs and landed on your arm?"

"Yeah. I tripped and fell."

Looking from the sheet and belt wrapped around Michaela's torso to Carlee, the doctor said, "That's an expert binding job. Your work?"

"No. A friend who was a medic in the Gulf," Carlee replied. "He didn't think she broke it, but didn't want to take any chances."

The doctor had gingerly unwrapped Michaela and sent her to X-ray.

The X-ray showed no broken bones, so the doctor put her arm in a sling with instructions not to use the arm for at least a week, so the strain could heal.

The two had finally stumbled back into the mansion around ten thirty.

The next morning, Carlee and Michaela went to find Jason, to think him for his help.

Carlee suspected A.R.C. knew where Jason was, because A.R.C. hadn't been in her room when she woke up.

"K.I.T.T., where's A.R.C. and Jason?" she spoke into her comlink.

"They're on the veranda," K.I.T.T. replied instantly.

A few minutes later, Carlee and Michaela walked out on the veranda.

"Good morning, Jason," Carlee greeted her friend.

"Thank you for helping me last night," Michaela said, throwing her one good arm around Jason.

Jason returned the hug, saying, "You're most welcome."

A.R.C.'s tail swept happily back and forth, "Jason has some good news!"

"Devon offered me a job as a medic for the Foundation," Jason proudly announced.

"Oh, Jason! That's wonderful news!" Carlee exclaimed.

Michaela squeezed Jason again, "That's great!" she squealed, "Isn't that great, A.R.C.?"

"I concur, Michaela."


End file.
